


I got nothing left inside of my chest and it's all alright

by drinkingstars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Los Angeles Kings, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanner watches Joner walk away, idly rubbing at the back of his hand where it’s sore from his IV. His mom pokes him in the shoulder, and smirks down at him when he looks up. He feels the blush rise in his cheeks. </p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s alright.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I got nothing left inside of my chest and it's all alright

**Author's Note:**

> We were all already thinking it when Coach Sutter said he thought Martin Jones "just took two or three days off to take care of Tanner."
> 
> Features a few references to injury, surgery, anesthesia and medications but nothing graphic.

The first thing Tanner remembers when he comes to is a vague impression of flashing lights behind his closed eyelids. He stays still until he can figure it out - probably a tv, but he doesn’t hear any sound. He listens until his ears wake up some more. Behind him somewhere he hears his mother’s laugh, stifled, like she’s trying to keep quiet for him. 

Then another voice, closer to him, monotone but nice, and familiar. Joner? Yeah, that’s Joner...telling his mom something that makes her laugh… _really_ laugh, so it’s probably inappropriate. Great.

He groans softly and cracks one eye open enough to focus, scanning down his body until he gets to his left leg, strapped into some kind of boot and puffy airbag contraption, just his flat, ugly toes poking out through a fluff of medical cotton. He scowls as he remembers it all, the boards and the break and oh right he’s got a titanium rod in his leg now. 

He glares at his leg, but can’t feel a thing, so they must have him pretty doped up. He turns his face on his pillow and sees Joner. Joner opens his mouth to say something, and Tanner hears his mother say, “Oh, is he awake?” 

Tanner mumbles a noncommittal sound and falls back asleep.

\---

A nurse wakes him up in the middle of the night to give him a shot in his ass.

“Can’t that go in...the thing?” Tanner whines a little, lifts his left arm to indicate his IV tubing - shouldn’t he be fully hooked into the Matrix at this point?

“Nope, not this one. Sorry. How’s your pain?”

He’s high as fuck, but also hungry and cranky and he wishes his mom were still here. He feels about 14.

“Can I eat yet?”

“I can get you some crackers. Maybe some Jello? You don’t want to eat too much until that anesthesia is out of you.”

Tanner has been eating about 7,500 calories a day since he _was_ 14\. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

His nurse brings him some snacks on a tray, and sets the tv remote beside it. He flips around the channels mindlessly for a while, eats a cup of red Jello and half a package of saltines, and falls back asleep.

\---

He’s been upgraded to plain toast and scrambled eggs when his mom gets back in the morning. She asks about his pain, too, and reads him some game highlights from the previous night. She never fusses over him when he’s injured - never has. She’s a Canadian hockey mom, as practical and sturdy as they come, and he’s so grateful for her.

“No pain, really,” he promises. “I mean I can feel where they did stuff. It’s alright. I guess they’re putting pretty good stuff in here.” He grins kind of sheepishly and nods toward his IV again. 

“Even when you were a kid and sick, I had to trick you into taking anything. Whatever’s in that IV is probably the strongest thing you’ve ever had.”

Tanner shrugs, eats a third piece of toast. “Don’t need it.”

“I know you don’t, honey. Maybe just this first day though, eh?” Tanner nods, feeling sleepy again, and lays his head back against the pillow.

“House ok? Joner ok?” He asks, even as he’s halfway to dozing off again. His mother laughs.

“I like that Martin. Sorry I had to kick Tyler out of his room - “

“Jesus I hope Joner washed and changed the bed for you,” Tanner interrupts, cringing at the thought of his mom staying in the room where Tyler Toffoli sleeps, incubates illnesses, and jerks off.

She waves him off with a knowing smirk. “He did, he made up the room, it’s very nice. I have no worry leaving you with Martin when I have to go back. He’ll be a good nurse.”

“ _Joner_?” Tanner half cracks a laugh, snorts through his stuffy nose but doesn’t open his eyes. He’s disturbed by a picture in his head of Joner in a slutty nurse costume from the Halloween store, and by the idea of any of these guys taking care of him.

“Mmm hmm. You’ll see. You never know a guy until he’s got to take care of you, or you have to take care of him.” She takes the remote from his hand and clicks the tv off, kisses him firmly on the forehead.

“Joner’s alright,” Tanner mumbles as he drifts off.

\---

There’s a sharp ache in his ankle, thrumming up through his lower leg, when he opens his eyes. It’s not unbearable but enough to be annoying - they must have stopped the good stuff in his drip. He crinkles his face at the irritation, trying to wake up, and thinks he hears the TwoDots music...maybe he’s still high after all. He rolls the crick out of his neck and carefully turns toward his window to check if it’s night or day and sees Joner, long legs splayed everywhere like always, half-slumped over in the visitor's chair. 

“‘Time is it?” Tanner asks, his voice raspy from sleep.

“About eleven. PM.” Joner pauses his game, stands and stretches and comes over to try to lean casually near Tanner’s bedside, but he’s awkward as hell. 

“They let you come this late?” Tanner realizes it’s a little strange. It’s not like he’s a VIP or anything.

Joner shrugs. “Night nurse said he didn’t care. I think he thinks we’re dating.”

“I think my mom thinks we’re dating,” Tanner adds, blinking his eyes in the dim light.

“Yep, I think she probably does.” Joner looks up and down the length of the bed, eyes settling on Tanner’s leg. He cocks his head to one side, like if he concentrates he can see through to the bones, assess them himself.

“Oh shit...game?” Tanner suddenly remembers.

Joner snorts out a laugh, rubs his hand over his eyes. “Nope. You really don’t wanna.”

“Shit. Bad?” He hits the little button on his bed to raise his back to a more upright position, feels around on his bedside tray for his phone. He flips through a few apps and sees the score, makes a face as he reads along.

“I got the start. Got pulled in the 2nd.”

“Oh shit.”

“Then Quickie got pulled and I went back in…”

“The fuck?”

“I don’t know. Just one of those nights. Be glad you missed it.” Joner closes his eyes, lets his head fall against the wall with a soft thump. Tanner cringes and grimaces his way through the article, then sets his phone back down.

“Anybody look good?” Tanner asks hopefully, fumbling for the little call button for his nurse to come in.

Joner shrugs. “Dewey. Willie I guess.”

Tanner shakes his head slowly. “I need some food. And pain meds,” he begrudgingly admits.

Joner stands when the nurse arrives, squeezing past the foot of Tanner’s bed to head out. He pats Tanner on his good leg on his way.

“I’ll be here in the morning when you get out. Take you home with your mom and then go to practice.”

Tanner smiles. “Cool.”

\---

The team doctor and Michael from the front office both turn up in the morning too, and Tanner realizes, right, it’s not just me and my broken fibula like old times. They hover around his bed, flipping through his chart and offering him plenty of trite hockey platitudes about strength through adversity while he waits for his regular clothes back. 

His mom and Joner read over his prescriptions and aftercare instructions together, which is...whatever. Tanner declines Percocet or Vicodin so he’s really just getting high-dosage Motrin and some strong antibiotics. His discharge nurse seems dubious, but his mom just gives her a mom shrug. The nurse seems to get it completely.

He knows he seems bullheaded, but he’s not. He just knows what he can take and what he needs. 

His mom knows too, and when the nurse brings his clothes she kicks everyone out, Senior Vice President of Important Hockey Stuff and all, and calmly helps her son get his track pants on. He has his soccer sandal for his other foot, and it feels so good when she helps him stand, the little bumps weirdly stimulating. He feels like his blood hasn’t moved in days.

He wants to walk out on his crutches but they won’t let him. An orderly pushes his wheelchair, and they make their way down the elevators, his entourage rolling deeper than he expected, but he can’t be mad about it. Michael From the Front Office shakes his hand at the curb and says Sutter will be in touch, and goes to get his car from the valet. Dr. Kvitne pats him on the shoulder, saying he’ll see him soon to start his PT, and heads back upstairs to see another patient.

LA does what LA does, and Tanner tilts his head back to feel the sun warming his face, closing his eyes against the brightness. At least he won’t have to feel the particular snap of a cold Canadian winter settling into a broken bone. 

He feels a nudge at his arm, and opens one eye to see Joner holding out Tanner’s own sunglasses. Tanner smiles his big stupid smile, puts them on. “Good lookin’ out, eh?”

Joner smiles behind his own sunglasses, gives a little nod, and goes to get the car. 

Tanner watches him walk away, idly rubbing at the back of his hand where it’s sore from his IV. His mom pokes him in the shoulder, and smirks down at him when he looks up. He feels the blush rise in his cheeks. 

“Yeah, he’s alright.”

\---

Joner actually, amazingly, stocked the kitchen with a thorough grocery store run. Tanner has never seen so much food in their refrigerator before.

“He’s a good one, Tanner, I’m telling you,” his mom reiterates while she cooks, filling their freezer with lasagna and turkey meatloaf, chicken and potatoes, a pot of beef stew in the fridge. Tanner rolls his eyes but smiles to himself from his corner of the sofa, taking sips of a chocolate banana protein smoothie in between half-assedly playing Xbox. 

He naps, hangs out with his mom, eats, naps some more. Except for not skating or practicing or working out at all, it’s not too different than his usual days. Joner comes home from an optional afternoon skate, helps himself to some chicken and veggie stir fry from the stove, and flops down at the other end of the couch.

“Your mom’s the best,” Joner says, crunching on broccoli while he hunts around for the other Xbox controller.

“Yep, she is.” Tanner agrees, hitting the back button until he can start a new game for two players. He gets it set up at the start screen, turns to Joner while he waits for him to eat. “Need you to help me with something later...k?”

Joner swallows his food, is quiet for a minute. He drops his voice low. “Don’t you...you wanna wait for your mom to leave?”

Tanner looks at him, exasperated, laughs and rubs his hand over his face when he realizes. “What? No not that. Jesus, Martin. Help me with some weights. Maybe move the bench to my room for now. Cool?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting? They’ll put you on PT and stuff, you don’t have to...just, don’t fuck up your leg worse because you’re bored, or whatever.”

“Just upper body shit! I’m gonna sit around on my ass and eat for like, six weeks. I can’t lose too much muscle, it’ll be too hard to come back. That’s why I asked you to help me so I don’t do anything wrong. Just chest and arm stuff. Ok?”

Joner spears some chicken and snow peas on his fork, rolls his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you want, man. Just take it easy on yourself.” Joner sets down his empty bowl and looks intent on his controller.

Tanner hits start. “I will. And maybe, you know...in a few days, you could help with the other thing, too.” He pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, chances a look over at Joner to see him slowly shaking his head.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, man.” Joner laughs, but he’s biting his lip like he’s thinking about it. Tanner grins, takes advantage of Joner being distracted, and kills Joner’s guy on screen.

\---

Joner is true to his word. 

Tanner’s mom has to leave early in the morning, and Joner insists on waking up and driving her to the airport. He comes home from practice and wakes Tanner up with a strawberry protein shake, hovers while Tanner stretches a little, then spots Tanner on bench presses and some dumbbell stuff. 

“You’re rotating too much, your leg’s flopping all around. Stabilize it, from here.” Joner straddles him on the bench, wraps his huge hands around Tanner’s hips and holds him there, stilling the motion. Tanner huffs out a hard breath, focuses on his form - it’s not nearly his top weight but he wants to do a lot of reps. 

He does two sets of flyes, Joner occasionally correcting his hips or shoulders, then puts the weights down at the sides of the bench. He’s resting a minute before he does a third, his hands lightly grazing across his chest, when he catches Joner’s eye, a little quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” Tanner asks, tilting his head at him quizzically. 

“Huh? Nothing. You look...you’re doing good, c’mon. One more set, I think that’s plenty for now.”

“Yep,” Tanner says, rolling his shoulders down to heft the dumbbells up again. Joner counts off 15 for him, but because Tanner is stubborn he keeps going to 20, breathing a little hard and face hot by the time he finishes and lowers them to hang at his sides.

“Good job,” Joner says, easy, coming around to take the weights from Tanner’s hands. He curls each one a couple of times before setting it down, just to be a dick probably. 

Tanner watches his arms flex anyway. He sniffs once, catches his breath, tongue running along his bottom lip. 

“Wanna help me in the shower?”

\---

Tanner has the strength to stand, leaning against the tile wall with his left leg and cast mostly outside the shower, just long enough for Joner to get him off with his hand. He rubs his palms together to lather up the orangey cinnamony body wash Tanner likes, uses the suds to jerk Tanner off while he braces his other arm against Tanner’s chest, just in case. 

It’s been a few days and Tanner’s about to set a speed record anyway when Joner drags his soapy hand all the way down. He strokes right past the base of his cock, lets his fingers slip over and then behind his balls, just barely glides between his ass cheeks while leaning in to kiss him. Tanner comes on Joner’s arm with a shake, gasps against Joner’s mouth.

“I gotta… _whoa_ , I gotta sit down,” he manages, still kissing Joner though his vision is going black around the edges.

Joner’s strong enough, holds him tight under his arms and helps ease him down to sit and rest on the low tile ledge that runs along the shower, his leg and cast still outside the spray.

“Better?” Joner asks, rinsing his arms and leaning his head back under the warm water. 

Tanner lets his head loll against the tile for a minute, enjoys the floaty spacy feeling as long as it lingers with him - better than whatever was in his IV. He starts to nod slowly, opens his eyes to the water running off Joner’s impossibly long, lean body, splashing onto him. 

He feels steady enough now that he’s sitting, and it’s so easy to lean forward and take Joner’s half-hard dick into his mouth while he’s trying to wash his hair. Joner sputters under the spray, “Jesus, _fuck_ , Pears,” and Tanner smiles around his cock as he starts to suck him off while Joner’s still trying to rinse the shampoo out of his eyes. He looks up, his mouth full, licking and squeezing and waiting as patiently as he can while the water runs down his face. 

Joner finally flicks his wet hair back, then brings a hand down to Tanner’s head, to his face, runs his long fingers along his jawline. Tanner wedges his hands against the edge of the tile wall, bracing himself so Joner can fuck his mouth as much as he wants. He pulls back, sucks and curls his lips tight around the head, opens and drops his mouth below to let the weight of Joner’s cock just fall on his tongue. 

Joner finally groans, grabs Tanner’s head harder, and shoves inside. “Your fucking mouth...for such a nice boy, Pears...you got a _real_ nasty mouth…shit...” 

Tanner looks up at him desperately, but can’t talk back, can’t say anything at all. He just opens and gapes and lets Joner take his mouth and use it. Tanner swallows, gulps at the endless stream of warm water running into and out of his mouth, feels Joner’s cock in the back of his throat. He absently drags the knuckles of one hand across his own dick, starting to stir again, just curious, and moans at his own touch.

Joner pulls back suddenly, wraps a hand around and jerks himself, watching his cock just resting on Tanner’s bottom lip. Tanner kind of smirks and says, “yeah, go for it,” and Joner growls and does, coming soft and warm on Tanner’s lips and cheek. 

Tanner lifts his chin up so Joner will look at him, beads of water heavy on his eyelashes. Joner seems suddenly bashful, cupping some water into his hands pouring it down Tanner’s body, the remnants of his own orgasm swirling down his neck and chest and away. 

Tanner feels flushed too, but only because he’s so warm. He could probably go again in a minute and he’s not bashful about that. He checks to make sure his leg is still relatively dry and unscathed, grins up at Joner. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah…why haven’t we?” Joner kind of laughs, finds his footing on the wet tile, leans in to kiss him.

\---

Tanner can’t remember the first time - back in Manch for sure, but the rest is blurry - but he can remember the last time and the time before that. 

There were parties and bars after the Stanley Cup, excited girls and awestruck guys buying too many shots, and eventually an Uber SUV that took them back to their empty house, sky over the rooftops and ocean still dark when they fell into Tanner’s big bed, laughing and crying and grabbing at each other for dear life, Joner finally fucking Tanner until the sun came up and they were almost sober again.

Toff came crawling in around noon, his neck covered in beard burn and bite marks, a six pack of Coors Banquet trailing from one hand. He tossed the covers off and cackled wildly at finding them so naked and clearly fucked out, swung his thighs across Tanner’s stomach and poured beer into both their mouths until they grabbed him and threw him down and took turns making out with him. 

Tanner eventually blew him while Joner cracked open a beer and watched, running his hands through their hair and giving Toff his fingers to suck on. Toff bucked against Joner’s chest, tried to yank at Tanner’s hair in warning but Tanner slapped his hand away, let Toff come in his mouth and swallowed it all, chased it with Joner’s beer. 

That was just Saturday.

When he and Joner got back at the end of the summer, it was again just the two of them and an empty house. It wasn’t desperate and drunk, it was just the sense of how much he’d missed all this - from the beach to their house to riding everywhere in Joner’s car. They ate their weight in sushi and came home to make out lazily on the couch while Pacific Rim played in the background. When the crack in the cushions got too uncomfortable, Joner snatched Tanner up by the hand and led him to his room, where they wound up kissing and rubbing off against each other. 

Joner peeled himself out of bed and brought back warm washcloths, which Tanner thought was pretty sweet. They fell asleep with their ankles knocking together, talking about how running at the beach was nice but running in the actual sand was bullshit.

\---

When Tanner wakes up again he smells his mom’s cooking and momentarily forgets where he is. Opening his eyes and seeing his left leg, now propped up on a couch cushion moved to his bedroom for this purpose, brings him back. He sits up, takes two of his Motrin with a blue Gatorade he doesn’t remember putting next to his bed, and hoists himself up to get his crutches. 

Jeopardy is on, and Toff is curled up on the shorter end of the couch, Joner sprawled on the other, both with bowls of what is definitely his mom’s beef stew. Toff lifts his head up to survey Tanner’s leg and his awkward crutch movements, hums the chorus of _I am Titanium_ , and plops his head back down.

Tanner rolls his eyes and keeps crutching his way toward the kitchen, asking on his way, “How’s your spleen, asshole?”

“Still huge like my dick,” Toff retorts, then yells out his Jeopardy guess, “What is Saint Peter's Basilica?” He’s right.

“How the fuck do you know shit like that?” Tanner shakes his head, still working his way around the couch but Joner stops him, grabs him by the arm.

“Pears, sit. I’ll do it.” He gets up, fixes the cushions just how Tanner needs them, then takes his crutches from him and goes to get him some dinner.

“Uhh, ok. Thanks?” He puts his leg up and sits, kind of studies Toff’s face while it’s screwed up as he racks his brain for the next question answer. “Hey, do we have wine?”

Joner answers, “We do. We have...the shit I bought at BevMo, and the shit Foxy sent us. Which is most definitely not shit.”

“What is pinot noir?” Toff quips, arching his eyebrow at Tanner. Tanner just squints at him.

“Are we supposed to drink that stuff, or like, keep it for another twenty years or something?” Tanner asks while Joner rummages around for their corkscrew.

“Fucking drink it!” Toff yells to the kitchen in reply. “We have like three cases between us. Nothing but the best for Kim’s beef stew, eh?”

“I would tend to agree with him, in this rare instance,” Joner says. “You can’t have any, though, Toff, so shut the fuck up.” Toff bitches about his liver being fine but settles back down under his throw blanket.

“What’s the deal with your shit, are you still contagious?” Tanner asks, pulling the other blanket up over his legs.

“Why, you wanna make out?” Toff fires back, turning to stare Tanner down while still chirping in the direction of the tv, correctly again, “Who are Castor and Pollux?”

Tanner laughs, probably a little too loud. “Yeah, you know it,” he says, and tosses his head against the sofa to hopefully hide if he’s blushing.

“Well, hobble your sexy ass on over here,” Toff starts but luckily is cut off by Joner bringing Tanner a somewhat ridiculous dinner tray. His mom’s stew piping hot in a bowl, a little plate with a real salad and a thick chunk of toasted sourdough brushed with olive oil, and, yes, a glass of wine. Tanner knows he’s blushing when he takes it, Joner grinning out of just one corner of his mouth and sitting down as fast and nonchalant as he can.

Toff props himself up on one elbow, letting out a slow whistle. “Oh daaaaamn, you got it bad, Joner. I didn’t get a fucking tray! Where’s the flower in the little vase?”

“Shut the fuck up, Toff, you’ll upset your spleen.” Joner very purposely looks right at the tv. Tanner watches him for a long moment before eating every bite of his food.

Toff scrunches his face up like he’s thinking again, which is never good, and looks shiftily back and forth from Joner to Tanner, back to Joner.

“Hmmmmmm…” Toff enunciates, like it’s a fully formed word.

\---

“Pears. Pears. C’mon. C’mon let me put you in bed.” Tanner wakes with a start and realizes he’s still in the living room. Joner is standing beside him with his crutches, and Toff is snoring on the other sofa. 

“Mmm. Mmkay. Thanks.” Tanner’s groggy, but manages to get himself up to a seated position. 

Joner puts the crutches down, holds out both hands and grips him by the arms to help him stand. “You drank like a tiny glass of red wine and passed out.”

“Awesome. I rule.”

Joner gets one arm around Tanner’s back, lets him lean into his body until he can find his balance. “You’re alright.”

\---

When Tanner finishes using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, Joner is fussing around in his room. He’s remade and retucked everything, and is stacking Tanner’s pillows in the correct formation for his leg.

“Joner. You’re doing too much.” Tanner runs his hand over his face, more awake now but also kind of...flustered. He pulls his t-shirt off to get in bed.

“Just helping you out. It’s cool, you’d do it for me,” Joner kind of smirks, folds down the top of the sheet. 

“Would I?” Tanner narrows his eyes at him dubiously and climbs up on his bed. It isn’t lost on him that this is at least his second or third potentially career-impacting injury, while Joner - who lets people fire rubber pucks at his face for a living - has never been hurt as far as he knows.

Joner laughs and rolls his eyes, even as he’s helping get Tanner’s left leg up where it needs to be. “You fucking better, eh?”

Tanner lays his head back against his pillow. His sheets feel smooth and cool, and his bed does feel very nice, thanks to Joner. Tanner gives him a warm smile, then looks away, considers one of the books on his bedside table, or his iPad. “I guess I would. Lucky thing you never get hurt, eh?”

Joner furrows his brow a bit, starts to turn away. “Text me or yell if you need anything, yeah?”

“Yeah, will. Or…” Tanner looks back at him and meets his eye. “You could hang out.”

Joner’s eyebrows go right back up, and he laughs out a breath. “Jesus, Pears. How do you _ever_ get laid by other people?” He’s shaking his head in sort of dumbfounded awe, but he’s definitely not making any move for the door.

Tanner shrugs, feels the pink rise in his cheeks. “Dunno. Dumb luck. And kinda cute, I guess.”

“Toff’s asleep on the couch,” Joner reminds him.

“Toff slept through a 4.2 earthquake during the playoffs.”

Joner makes a face like he’s weighing it for about five more seconds before he gives in. “Point.”

Joner closes the door with a soft click before crawling up the length of Tanner’s bed. He carefully presses only half of his limbs and little of his weight against him, one leg fitting in between Tanner’s where they’re spread, and places one hand low on Tanner’s belly. He rubs, long and slow, up his chest, lightly over each of his nipples, on up to his shoulders. He wraps a hand behind Tanner’s neck, drags a thumb to rest at the corner of Tanner’s mouth before leaning in. “Fuck, Pears.” 

Tanner just has time to take a breath before Joner’s kissing him sweet and slow, but they never really stay that way very long. Tanner arches into him as much as he can, and Joner holds him down, brings his hand to his cheek, presses his mouth against his. 

“You’re going to have to just lie still, you know.” Joner’s lips are warm and dry, his palm feels cool against Tanner’s face. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Tanner gulps against his mouth, opening and encouraging Joner to kiss him harder.

Joner pulls back, shakes his head against Tanner’s mouth. “You can. You have to.”

“But I could - “

“Yeah but you can’t now. Just...let me take care of you.” Joner slides down his body. It’s a lot of length and legs and arms for Joner to arrange but he does it, grasps the top of Tanner’s shorts and works them gently down. He gets his good leg free first, then gingerly lifts Tanner’s cast off the pillows and lets the shorts fall to the floor.

“Why are you being so...ahhhh, shit.” Tanner tries to ask with a choked gasp as Joner licks around the head of his dick.

“Shhhhh,” Joner says. He opens his mouth and takes Tanner down. Tanner squirms a little, bucking his hips at the wetness and warmth, trying to get more of it. Joner immediately moves one of his hands to wrap across the top of Tanner’s left thigh and hold him there, so firmly he cannot possibly jostle his bad leg. 

Joner’s all friction and head movement, not letting Tanner get any kind of upward thrust of his own, which is probably good for him but _fuck_ it’s frustrating. Tanner finally lets his head drop, heavy against his pillow, throws an arm across his mouth to shut himself up and just lets Joner do his thing. He settles down and gets out of his stupid head, and Joner is giving him an _amazing_ fucking blow job. 

His tongue coils around his shaft and over the head of Tanner’s cock while he’s hollowing his cheeks and sucking, getting noisier and sloppier. Tanner groans and Joner hangs his mouth open, letting some of his spit pool down around Tanner’s balls. Joner brings a hand to slip underneath, rolls them in his wet fingers, works his mouth back down Tanner and up to the head again, again, again. He fucks his throat down onto the head of Tanner’s cock, and pushes a couple of fingertips through the wetness to touch behind his balls, draws tiny circles around and around until Tanner is panting. 

“You got some lube?” Joner mumbles, pulling up and slurring a bit on the head of Tanner’s cock, trying to talk without letting it go. “I can’t fuck you...we’ll definitely hurt your leg. But I can do this…” He fans the fingers pressing up almost into him already, flutters them against Tanner’s sensitive skin. Tanner thrashes a little, despite Joner’s weight on him, and Joner grins against his thigh. “I mean, while I’m down here.”

Tanner grits his teeth and nods furiously, not even trying to play cool because _yes_ he wants, and he doesn’t know what has gotten into Joner but he likes it.

When Joner sinks two cool, wet fingers into him, Tanner leaves teeth marks in his own arm. When he comes, it’s a hard jolt of a thing, wracking his whole body while Joner just holds him, kisses his cock as it pulses, noses along the crease of his thigh. 

When he’s sure Tanner’s done, Joner sits back on his heels. Tanner knows he has a dumb smile on his face, but he can’t really help it. Joner is smiling too, looking pretty smug. He reaches back and loops his thumb and fingers in a circle, just kind of holding onto Tanner’s good ankle.

“If I hadn’t been holding you still I think you’d have kicked me in the chin just then.”

Tanner ducks his head, reaches out to just graze Joner’s knee with his knuckles. “Cast side, too. That definitely woulda left a mark, eh?”

Joner grins. “A goalie scar, but mine would be a sex injury.”

“Cool story, though,” Tanner laughs a little, loopy and sex stupid and maybe something else.

“Oh totally. Better than some dumb hockey game.” Joner gets up, goes into Tanner’s bathroom. 

When he hears the water turn off, Tanner tries to whisper-yell for a warm washcloth, but Joner’s already coming back in the room it. 

He shakes his head softly, leans over to wipe down Tanner’s stomach, kisses Tanner on the mouth, lingering when he’s done. “What kind of asshole lay do you think I am?”

\---

Tanner lays in bed for a while after he wakes up. It’s drowsy and comfy, his blinds cool and dark against the morning light. He can smell something, sweet and a little spicy, drifting through the house. 

It’s probably waffles, which aren’t real waffles, but Joner’s weirdo paleo version. All Tanner knows about them is Joner uses cinnamon, a full dozen eggs, and about ten pounds of bananas to feed the three of them. 

He feels like he could lounge in bed and maybe fall asleep a little while longer, but the smell is so _good_. He finally rolls over and drags himself to the bathroom, takes a quick half-assed shower on his own, and makes his way upstairs.

Toff is polishing off his plate, mopping his fork around in the last of his maple syrup with a piece of turkey sausage. He also has the remote, which means Cupcake Wars is on.

“Again?” Tanner asks, hip checking Toff as he goes to flop down on his designated end of the couch.

“It’s a marathon. Greener’s one will be on later!” Toff exclaims, as if they haven’t seen the episode at least four times already. 

“Pears. Breakfast. Everything?” 

Tanner twists around so he can see Joner in the kitchen and gives him a soft look. “Yes please.”

“Fake ass hippie waffles,” Toff chirps.

“You ate like four of them so shut it,” Joner says, smiling quietly at Tanner over the kitchen counter. He brings Tanner a plate stacked with waffles, breakfast sausage, and a pile of fresh berries. Tanner nudges him with his good foot, stupidly feels himself flush in the face. There’s nothing he can do about that. 

Joner just smiles, slow and lazy, sits next to Tanner with one arm on the back of the sofa. Tanner’s eaten all the sausages and half the waffles when he realizes what time and day it must be. “Don’t you have to go? Morning skate?”

“Uhhh...I’m not going. I think I...tweaked my back or something?”

“What? You got hurt?” Tanner looks up with concern, half a strawberry between his teeth.

Joner stretches his arms behind his back and rolls his head on his neck. “I mean nothing bad, I don’t think. Just kinda...wrenched it, maybe a pinched nerve. Weight lifting maybe. Anyway I called out. Called in. Whatever.”

“You called in sick from a game day?” Tanner is extremely confused and worried but also suspicious, and also thinking about how Joner has been lifting him and helping him hobble around and also how they had _sex in the shower_ the other day. Was there bending? Straining? He tries to remember. Just thinking about it makes him blush. More.

Joner throws his hands up as he gets up from the couch again. “Yes, ok? I have hurt my back. My back is spasming, or something, and I’m not able to report to my job as a backup goalie at hockey. It’s fine. I’m going to get the heating pad. Do you need anything?”

Tanner opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it. Gives up. Shakes his head and goes back to his waffles.

Toff waits all of five seconds once Joner’s out of the room. “Hmmmmmm…” he says again, louder and even more articulated.

“What?” Tanner snips at him, shoving one last bite and some blueberries in his mouth.

“No no no, it’s good. Good for you guys.”

Tanner chews, tries to ignore him until he’s done. Finally sets his plate down and looks at Toff. “What?”

”It’s cool with me. I mean as long as we can still fool around on special occasions?” Toff turns and side-eyes him, licks at the corner of his mouth infuriatingly. “It’s cute, Pears! Don’t get defensive. I’m happy for you Bambi-eyed idiots.”

Tanner looks down. He traces a finger through the maple syrup left on his plate.

“Toff.”

“Huh.”

“Did he really hurt his back?” Tanner asks carefully out of one side of his mouth.

Toff doesn’t look away from the tv, just shakes his head, back and forth.

It’s quiet in the room for a long minute. Just the Mormon baker chatting excitedly about her Star Wars TIE Fighter cupcake display. 

Tanner furrows his brow, sucks the syrupy tip of his finger between his lips. “Oh,” he finally says. 

Toff sighs, loudly. “Yeah. Oh.” 

\---

Tanner’s phone buzzes while he’s napping, and he grumbles as he sits up and tries to focus. He and his mom have a longstanding deal not to let each other’s calls go to voicemail if they can help it, so he rubs his eyes and picks it up.

She asks how he’s feeling, what he’s eating, and about Joner.

Tanner flops back on his pillow and lays his hand over his eyes. “Mom...why...I mean, do you think...ugh, fuck.”

“Tanner,” his mom stops him.

“Mom, I’m a professional hockey player. I don’t know how to have feelings without swear words.”

“Oh Tanner, I don’t care about that. Just say what you mean, honey. It’s fine.”

Tanner picks at a shiny thread on the trim of his duvet. “I think Joner likes me and I think I like him.”

“See, was that so hard?” 

He can hear his mom’s teasing smile over the phone, and rolls his eyes like he did when he was a bratty teenager. “Yes, actually!”

“Honey, Martin has liked you for a long time. And I kind of thought...well maybe you just didn’t know that you knew.”

“...What? Mom, not...not helping.”

His mother heaves a deep, resigned sigh. “Ok. Do you remember when they came to take you back for your surgery, and they put the shot in your IV to relax you first?”

“Not really...I just remember us talking to the doctor, and then, I was, like, waking up.”

“Now don’t you feel bad, because everyone says stuff. Some people have really embarrassing stories.”

“Oh god, Mom…” He muffles his face with a pillow and says a prayer in his head as fast as he can, please nothing about sex, please nothing about sex, please please please.

“You just said, ‘Don’t worry mom, I’ll be fine, I have Joner!’ I just figured you were high as a kite. But then when Martin came to wait with me and I got to spend some actual time with him...sweetie, it’s pretty obvious.” 

Tanner shoves the pillow off him and rolls over on his side, phone still perched on his ear. He lies still, and closes his eyes. “Oh.”

\---

Tanner stays in his room for a while. He doesn’t hide, exactly, he is just comfortable there and feels like it is good for him to be alone. With his thoughts, or whatever. Actually he watches Guardians of the Galaxy and fucks around on the internet until he gets hungry and his leg starts to ache. 

He texts Toff _whats fr dinner_ but Toff just sends back _??? im not ther idk gtg._

He’s getting himself mentally prepared to go upstairs when Joner knocks softly.

He’s in a suit. Fuck. He leans against the frame of Tanner’s door, slouching a little so he fits. 

Tanner fumbles with his Motrin bottle, dumps too many out onto his bed so he has to pick them up again. “Oh, you’re…going to the game?”

“I forgot it’s the Blake thing tonight. Do you want to get dressed and go? They’ll bring a wheelchair to the car for you. You want?” Joner looks excited at the prospect of pushing him around the Staples Center in a wheelchair. Shit. 

“I dunno...it sounds like a pain in the ass. My leg actually kinda hurts right now...getting dressed up sounds pretty awful.” Tanner tries not to whine but he must sound pretty pitiful, because Joner frowns.

“You had your leg cut open for this team like four days ago. I think you get a pass tonight.” His hands are in his pants pockets and his shoes are shiny, nice and new from his closet, not his travel shoes.

“You look good,” Tanner blurts out before he can stop himself. He ducks his head against his chest.

Joner swallows hard, looks down at his shoes. “Well now I really want to take you with me.”

Tanner blushes even more, if that was possible. He pushes on through. “I don’t need, like, dates, you know...I mean. Fuck, is this too weird?”

“I’m not even sure what we’re talking about,” Joner laughs, but comes to stand closer to Tanner anyway. He nudges his cast aside carefully, makes a space between his legs and pulls Joner in.

Tanner looks up at him, feels both totally out of his element and totally alright with the fact that he’s about to step over some metaphorical ledge. “No, you have to be the one that knows, though. I’m too dumb and bad at this shit.”

“You’re not dumb, and I don't know why you think I’m somehow any better at it? And just...to be clear, we’re talking about, like...”

Tanner’s never going to forgive Joner for making him be the one to say this. He takes a cleansing breath, thinks about Joner making it up to him later, and lets it out all at once. “ _Us_ , I guess?”

“Us like you and me?” Joner points, actually points, gestures back and forth between them, leaves his finger resting on Tanner’s chest.

Tanner twists his mouth at one side, looks up at Joner through his eyelashes, and nods.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Joner beams, takes Tanner’s face in his hands and kisses him, laughs and sighs and bites at his lips and kisses them again.

If Tanner weren’t sitting his knees would buckle. He hums his approval and kisses Joner more deeply, slides his arms under his jacket and around to hold him, hands at the small of his back. He pulls gently and Joner gives with the pressure, leans into kissing him until Tanner pulls back with a breathy hitch.

“Oh…shit.” 

Joner looks as dopey as he feels, grinning at him. “Yeah.”

Tanner looks up at him with a sly smile. “So your back is fine?”

“Yeah totally fine,” Joner laughs.

“Oh thank god.”

“Yeah.” Joner kisses him once more, leans back in his arms to look at him. “This is gonna be good.”

Tanner reaches up to touch his lips, still softly buzzing. “So good.”

\---

Tanner eventually lets him leave for the game, not too mussed for sitting in the press box but probably too distracted to focus much on the ceremony. They lose in OT and Tanner stomps around the house one-footed on his crutches because he hates the stupid fucking Ducks and he wants to be playing _so_ badly. It aches in him more than the actual broken bone. 

When he’s done feeling sorry for himself he hobbles back and forth to put his accumulated dinner plates in the dishwasher, and pops open a beer. He winds up drinking his beer in the shower, brushes his teeth, and stretches out on his bed to wait for Joner to get back, googling some stuff on his laptop. 

Googling some stuff leads to basically looking at porn, which he can only tell himself is for science for so long. He’s getting pretty frustrated and thinking about doing something about it when Joner gets home, thank god. He shoves the laptop away and makes himself wait to at least see Joner and kiss him again before he starts arranging his pillows - he doesn’t want to seem _that_ eager but he really is.

He doesn’t have to wait long anyway, as Joner comes barreling down to his room, shucking off his jacket and tie and throwing them on Tanner’s desk before he can even get a word out. 

Tanner scoots to the middle of the bed and holds his arms out, open and impatient. “Get over here already.”

“I am, I am!” Joner gives up fighting with the top button on his dress shirt and just climbs on the bed, kneeling between Tanner’s legs.

“I’ll do that. Hi.” Tanner goes for his neck, pops the stubborn top button through the hole, and moves in to kiss the warm skin under his collar.

Joner hums softly, moves in a little closer so Tanner can reach the rest of his buttons. “Why did I leave this for a stupid hockey game?”

“I really don’t know,” Tanner laughs against his throat, flicks his tongue along the strong tendons running up Joner’s neck to his jaw, kisses him there. Joner shifts his weight, throws his shirt off his arms and slides his hands up Tanner’s thighs.

“Uhh, whoa...couldn’t wait for me?” Joner grins as his fingertips bump against Tanner’s cock, already hard and jutting out against the soft fabric of his shorts.

Tanner runs his hands over Joner’s chest, chews on his lip. “I was kinda doing, uh, research.”

“Ummm, tell me about that,” Joner says, raising up to kiss him roughly, groping his cock through the material.

Tanner squirms, fusses with Joner’s pants but he can’t quite get the angle to undo everything. “Take your pants off, I’ll show you,” he sighs against his mouth in frustration and Joner jumps to help, starts laying him back. 

Tanner props up on his elbows, watches Joner swear a lot and get his pants unzipped and toss them on the floor, then hook his fingers into the top of Tanner’s shorts and pull those off too. 

Tanner takes a moment to look him up and down, all long legs and long everything else. Joner doesn’t seem to mind, smiles and reaches down to loop his fingers around Tanner’s ankle again. Tanner smiles. He likes it there.

Joner gives his foot a little shake to get his attention. “Now what?” 

“Oh, right. Ok, pillows. Over here.” Tanner grabs the cushion and his other pillows, starts building a little support structure on the opposite side of the bed from his bad leg. Joner looks intrigued, and sort of helps, but mostly runs his hands all over Tanner’s thighs and distracts him from his plan. 

When it looks right, Tanner smiles sheepishly, and trying not to worry about how much he’s probably blushing, rolls over onto his chest. His left leg is held aloft and stabilized by the pillows, while his right leg slopes down behind him and off to the side. 

He arches his back to look over his shoulder and meet Joner’s eye. “Think this’ll work?”

Joner’s mouth hangs open, and it takes him a few tries to get a sound or reaction out. “You...this is what you looked up?” He takes a step closer, puts one knee down on the bed behind Tanner.

“Yup. ‘Gay sex broken leg.’ Found some weird ass shit, too.”

“Yeah...bet you…” Joner barely forms the words, looking up and down and licking his lips in a daze. “Yeah,” he says again, tapping Tanner on the side to get him to lift a little. He slides one pillow under his hips, which Tanner realizes definitely lifts his ass and means he is probably spread wide open for Joner to see. He swallows hard, puts his face down on his arms.

Joner runs his open palm all the way up Tanner’s back, from the swell of his ass to the base of his skull, and back down. “Wow. Ok. And you’re sure nothing hurts?”

Tanner sighs and shakes his head lightly. “No. No pressure on my leg at all. And you can, you know. You’re in control.”

“Oh god, yeah, this’ll definitely work,” Joner groans, quickly rummaging in Tanner’s bedside drawer for lube and way more condoms than Tanner thinks they need, but who knows? 

Joner crawls the rest of the way up along his body to find Tanner’s mouth, kisses him full and wet, then grins wickedly. He tilts Tanner’s face back to the pillow, then pushes his shoulders down as he goes, dropping light, tickling kisses along his spine to the very top of his ass. Tanner tenses for just a second, realizing what’s happening, but when he feels Joner’s warm breath and his tongue slick and sure between his ass cheeks he just can’t be bothered to be embarrassed anymore.

“Oh my god, you’re…oh god,” is all he can manage as Joner licks his way up and down, along the sides of the sensitive skin there.

“You can stop me if you don’t like it,” Joner pauses to say, then flicks his tongue again right against Tanner’s rim.

“Are you...fuck… _kidding_...oh god,” Tanner is reduced to nonsense words and Joner keeps licking, pushing gently in and around with the tip of his tongue, flicking it back and forth until Tanner can feel himself quiver.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Joner growls against him, spreads him a little wider and Tanner feels warmth and wetness pooling from Joner’s mouth, feels his tongue working into him. “Getting you nice and wet...you want that don’t you?” Joner asks with a kiss and a lick.

Tanner’s back arches, pushing his ass up even more, and he lifts his head to try to nod _yes_. Yes he wants that, he wants everything Joner’s going to give him. He feels his cock throbbing and leaking against the pillows, but he has no chance of getting a hand under there now, and tries to ignore it . 

Joner keeps pressing on the flat slope between his ass and his back while he licks into and inside him. Tanner feels the slight shift on the bed and hears the flip cap when Joner opens the lube. He’s quick about it, rubbing some between his fingers to warm it before slipping his thumb and fingers where his tongue just was. Tanner’s head whips up off the pillow this time when Joner’s finger hooks inside him.

“Shhh shhh...relax,” Joner tries, smoothing his other hand over Tanner’s ass and back as he works the fingers in and out.

Tanner cranes his neck to look back at him and is glad to see Joner’s just as flushed and red as he feels. He meets his eye, breathing hard, shakes his head in a kind of wonder that seems to make Joner smile. Then he lays back down, tries to go supple under Joner’s touch. “You never...did that before,” Tanner breathes out, mostly into the pillow.

Joner crooks his fingers - two or three now, Tanner can’t even tell - and gives the side of Tanner’s ass a loud, playful smack. “‘Cause _that_ is only for boyfriends.” Tanner can hear the grin in his voice and can’t help pushing up on his forehead to look behind himself.

“Ohh god, you’re gonna be a cheesy ass boyfriend aren’t you? You gonna fuck me now or what?” Tanner chirps. 

“Oh, I am,” Joner cracks, looking smug as he gets himself ready, holding Tanner open until he can push his cock inside in place of his fingers. 

Tanner arcs up and into it, babbling _yeah_ and _fuck_ in various combinations, back bowing as Joner finds his angle. He grasps Tanner by one hip to tilt him up slightly, still obviously being mindful of the bad leg. 

Tanner can’t even feel his leg, just Joner pressed up behind him and inside him, starting to thrust in slow and drag back out. Tanner knows he’s just being careful, which is sweet, but he’s a little too careful and it’s torture, so he pushes up from his hips and grinds back. Joner gets it and goes a little faster, Tanner muttering and swearing under his breath when that shift of hips lets Joner go a little deeper, too.

Tanner tries to see if there’s room underneath him to get his hand on his dick, but Joner is too long and too fast, stretching out to press Tanner’s arm back to the bed. He shifts Tanner’s hips a tiny bit more making room for himself and reaching between Tanner’s legs and _finally_ touching his cock. 

“Yeah, fuck, like that…” Tanner manages to grit out, then buries his face in his arms again.

Joner mouths along his back, “Good, so good, gonna make you come for me,” and wraps his hand around him. He strokes him as best he can, Tanner’s cock tight against his belly, letting the way he’s fucking into him rock him right through it until Tanner shudders and cries out a string of nonsense noise, coming fast and hard between his stomach and Joner’s hand. 

Tanner turns his face to the side to find some air, mouth open and gasping through his orgasm. Joner makes a low, guttural sound deep in his chest as he watches him. He works his hand out from underneath them and folds forward over Tanner’s back again, holding his fingers to Tanner’s lips, just a little of Tanner’s own come streaking them. His eyelids flutter closed and he licks, sucks Joner’s fingertips clean while Joner fucks into him. 

It’s only a few more thrusts before Joner’s hips stutter, his rhythm suddenly quick and erratic. Tanner hears him grunt and feels him clench up and go still for that split second, swearing as he hovers right on the edge, holding Tanner tight and biting down into his shoulder when he comes. 

\---

They throw the worst of the pillows and the top sheet on the floor, and Joner brings a warm washcloth and a fresh towel to clean them both up and dry them off. When he comes back from the kitchen with Gatorades, Tanner has his leg elevated like it’s supposed to be. He has also turned the stupid fucking remote control fireplace on, because if they’re going to be cheesy boyfriends, he’s going to do it right, damn it.

“It was chilly!” Tanner balks when Joner gives him a dubiously arched eyebrow.

“They’re going to take away your Canadian passport, they hear that shit,” Joner laughs at him, but turns the lights off and snuggles down into the comforter with him in the firelight anyway.

Joner kisses him, slow and sweet and keeping it that way. Eventually he lays his head down, resting his hand on Tanner’s chest. 

Tanner stretches, drapes his arm down behind Joner’s neck and around his shoulders, presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I think we’re gonna have to kick Toff out for a few weeks. At least.” 

Joner snorts against his chest. “He knows that. He’s going to make himself scarce, he swears. Probably can’t get away with _weeks_ though.”

“Yeah, I kinda doubt that. How long do you think we have?” Tanner asks sleepily, hooking his right foot over Joner’s legs.

Joner curls in, tucks himself close to Tanner. “I don’t know...how long do back spasms usually last?”

Tanner cracks up laughing, can’t believe Joner’s such an amazing asshole that he did that, is doing that for him. His leg does ache from being in that position and, well, probably from getting fucked, and he doesn’t doubt that Joner’s back may very well hurt in the morning. They’re hockey players, and something’s always going to hurt, but this is worth it.


End file.
